


practically obligatory

by Ser_Renity



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-27 12:32:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8401828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ser_Renity/pseuds/Ser_Renity
Summary: Same verse as "Easy", Bambietta and Candice's first meeting.





	

**Author's Note:**

> feat. :  
> -one racist comment that gets called out  
> -a bad date that I somehow pictured as Ulquiorra  
> -Bambi and Askin being best friends and also middle eastern
> 
> based on a tumblr prompt for one of your otp saving the other from a bad date which isnt really what happens here but it inspired me ayo

* * *

 

 

Christmas with the family was always fun for you- you didn’t celebrate it at all in your home country but when you moved to a place with a larger christian population the sudden assault of all things christmas-y was inevitable.

  
It was funny, though, seeing your many relatives try to embrace the customs that were new to them- for your sake, mostly, but also your girlfriend’s.

  
Candice’s parents were thankfully no less accepting but also the kind to drink a little too much and embarrass their kids by laughing loudly at stories from their childhood. You liked them, though, the people and the stories. There was one you told, too, that made you laugh and your mother curse under her breath.

  
“If I had been there,” she always said sternly and ignored the way you rolled your eyes, “I would not have let it come that far.”

  
It was the story of how you met your future girlfriend- you saved Candice from terrible danger.

 

* * *

 

 

“Are you ready to order?” was the first thing you said to her, maybe a little bored, maybe in that tone of voice that every other waiter ever identified as artificial politeness. It wasn’t that it never ended up being a good day; there was just always that one customer that could ruin it all, that arrogant old couple or entitled racist; that snobby middle-aged lady or spoiled child.

  
This time, however, it was a couple and you knew, somehow, that something was about to happen the moment they walked into the restaurant you worked at. The job didn’t pay well but your boss didn’t care about any of your personal affairs and never yelled at you- so it was alright with you, a bit of extra money to make it through high school perfectly fine.

  
What it did mean, however, was that you had to serve other teenagers like the one sitting close to the window right now- a girl and a boy about your age, engaged in what seemed like _riveting_ conversation.

  
“And I’m writing her, like, y’know, like a _strong_ female, you see?” the guy said, “She’s tough, doesn’t cry- she learned that from growing up with her four brothers, you know?”

  
“Uhuh,” the girl said, nodding like someone you really, really did not want to know.

  
“And their love story is something that completes her in the end, gives her that missing piece that she lost when her father left her. He just becomes her world instead, you know?”

  
“Yeah.”

  
You cleared your throat.

  
“Are you ready to order?” you repeated and as the boy turned his weirdly bright eyes to you it was like a thousand choirs descended from the heavens to warm you that yes, this was the end and you were about to have to kill a man.

  
“We are having a conversation here, missy,” he said and blinked very slowly, “Do they not teach manners where you came from?”

  
The choir was still there, still singing but beginning to resemble a cacophony of screaming birds instead- you could hear the siren from _Kill Bill_ as well.

  
The thing was: you were not very patient. Even when you were a small child your friends used to joke that your anger was enough to make you explode- it was not true, of course, but it took years and long-term therapy for you to get a grip on these violent intrusive thoughts.

  
They weren’t all like this- not always a vision of you bashing the guy’s head into the table until he no longer had a nose- but sometimes they could be.

  
“I apologize,” you said with the widest, most apologetic smile on your face, “Do you need a little more time, then?”

  
“No, no,” the girl said to you and you could see it in her eyes, that plea for _oh my god I’m so embarrassed by this asshole_ , “I’ll just have water for now.”

  
You looked at her for the first time then, looked at her for real and the choir was back, this time with less violence and more terrible 80’s porn music.

  
Candice- but you didn’t know her name then, of course- looked like a model. Even sitting down you could tell she was tall and her long green hair looked like it would be incredibly soft and nice to touch. As she smiled at you shyly you saw her front teeth had a visible gap, the light blush on her cheeks only made her freckles stand out more. She was so pretty you almost forgot to take her date’s order.

  
You were grateful for the notepad you carried with you, otherwise you would have had to guess and possibly endure more of his insults.

  
“A bad one?” your colleague asked you while wiping the counter, craning his neck to see, “Oh, she’s cute, though.”

  
“Don’t you dare,” you told him, “She’s on a terrible date already, we shouldn’t make it any worse.”

  
“You’re so rude to me, Bambi. Calling me a worse option than that emo twerp over there?”

  
“I haven’t forgotten you called me at 4am to cry over that one song yesterday, so I’ll call you whatever the hell I please.”

  
He just laughed.

  
“Well then, how about you go and make her day? It looks like she could use saving.”

  
You glanced over your shoulder and had to admit he was right- the poor girl looked ready to fall asleep.

  
“I can’t just go there and murder her date, though.”

  
“You’re so brutal. Try something a little more subtle, a little refined and elegant-”

  
You took the cloth he used for cleaning and threw it at his face. Having a best friend around at work was terrible but amazing on the best of days.

  
You took the drinks back to the table and set them down in front of the cute girl and her date- from what you gathered he was still talking about the script or book he was writing. It was funny, really, you always thought that people like him did not exist in real life but there he was, in the flesh, talking about how a happy ending bored him.

  
This time you waited until he was taking a break before speaking up.

  
“Can I get you anything else?”

  
Once again the guy turned to you- slowly, of course, to make sure he showed how little he cared- and he was very close to talking again-

  
but the pretty girl leaned across the table and put a finger against his lips.

  
“Look,” she said and sighed, “I’m gonna stop you right there before you say something even worse than last time out of some misplaced sense of male pride. Yes, I get you are trying to impress me. No, it is not working. You can just, y’know, shut up.”

  
Your eyes were as wide as saucers and the guy seemed to be stuck between opening and closing his mouth. It was a sight to behold, definitely.

  
“Thank you!” she said next, turning to you, “And hell, I am still embarrassed I even gave this racist piece of ass a chance. I am so sorry for what he said and-”

  
She took her purse from the pocket of her shorts.

  
“-here’s what we owe you and a little extra for not punching either of us! Have a nice day!"

  
Then she got up and walked out of the restaurant, high heels and all.

  
You were standing in the aisle with a few napkins in your right hand. The guy was doing something, you were not sure and you could see your friend gesture you to go outside as well.

  
Hell, you thought, why not?

  
So you ran after the cute girl like a lovesick puppy and managed to make a fool of yourself- it happened, sometimes, there was no stopping it- by blushing bright red.

  
“I’m sorry if you’re straight but I kinda wanna ask you on a better date and now that I ran outside in an apron this seems like a super shit idea-”

  
That’s where you stopped yourself, a little out of breath and with your hair sticking out to the sides- curse the heat, curse humid air- and everything was confusing and _when had asking someone out been so hard ever_ -

  
“Okay cool,” Candice said and shrugged, “Can’t be any worse than the one I just had.”

  
And that was that, case closed, date scored.

 

* * *

 

 

“Remember how we met?” you asked Candice a few years down the line with more piercings and a bar of your own, “That was great.”

  
“Put it on a christmas card- _‘I’m banging the waitress who brought me really nice water five years ago_ ’.”

 

* * *

 


End file.
